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We are playing a place called the Summit - except that it's called Cafe Bourbon Street and used to be a gay club. And now half of it is split and there are press-on letters on one door that say "Extreme Wieners." If this all sounds confusing, it's because it is confusing.

The promoter never shows up and issues instructions to a hyperventilating bartender over the phone - once he gets the front door open because it's stuck shut. Inside, there is a large black space with mirrors on the ceiling and five flat-screen televisions right next to each other showing the same channel.

We order some food from next door, which turns out to be pretty great, and they give us a case of beer. Our old friend Jimmy Turri, a NEPA ex-patriot now living in Columbus, arrives and we catch up on old times. The show is pushed back a bit for the second presidential debate and we cheer Obama on while trying to figure out why all five television sets are on.

Some folks show up. Someone brings a third of an already-eaten cake with no icing from their house and tries to convince me it's for my birthday. It all seems pretty uneventful until we begin playing and the cops arrive. Years ago we played at 4 a.m. in the middle of someone's backyard in Columbus. You used to be able to get away with anything around here, and now the cops are shutting down legal venues for noise? We shake our heads and pack our van.

We bed down at Jimmy's place - the historic Legion of Doom, a house that has been putting on punk shows since the '80s and also has been a waystation for punks and travelers. Years ago I made the mistake of sleeping in the basement, the walls still dripping with sweat and condensation from a crowded show. I woke up with some sort of awful lung infection. These days I sleep in the living room.

About the Author

Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.

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